15.6.11

My girl is a powerhouse of movement and sound, a tumbling rumbling flurry of action, the wind that whips your hair and makes your eyes water.

In other words, she's most suited to gymnastics.

She had her first recital (ever) last month and insisted she wear her ballet leotard rather than her unitard. She refused to allow us to come near her. She tried to perform each activity without a spotter. She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes when anyone tried to exercise their authority over her.

In other words, she carries exactly half of my genetic code. My attitude and her father's daring. My independence and her father's dexterity. And in that almost-too-small leotard? All that tush? That's 100 percent from the mountain. Guess I should've known way back when.

Despite her fiesty, fierce determination to show us all what she's made of, her coaches have asked her to begin training for their challenge team. That means she'll be taking those rolling eyeballs on the road.

Olympics here we come!

Let's hear about your child's first display of arrogance mixed with middling talent. Or, of course, how fabulous he or she is at everything.